


What she wanted

by paperlesscrown



Series: behind closed doors: a bughead canon sex series [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 2.14, Bossy!Betty, Extended Scene, F/M, Fluff, Meta disguised as smut, NSFW, Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlesscrown/pseuds/paperlesscrown
Summary: Jughead finally sees her - the notorious Dark Betty. But as they both discover, what they actually want is so much simpler. Assertiveness. Honesty. Release. And, yes, even intimacy.**WINNER: BEST CANON DIVERGENCE ONE-SHOT - BUGHEAD FANFICTION AWARDS 2018**





	What she wanted

Raymond Carver was a depressing read, Jughead decided.

He had borrowed Carver’s collection of short stories, _What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,_ largely thanks to the promising title and the prestige of the author’s name. The book had been tossed into his overnight bag as a last-minute addition - Jughead was always paranoid that he’d be caught somewhere without having something good to read. But now he wished he had brought something more familiar and comforting. Like Capote, perhaps. Or maybe even Hemingway.

There was no question that the stories in the book were exceptionally written. But they were all strange, claustrophobic and depressing. Jughead didn’t need that. He lived in Riverdale, after all.

What he needed was an escape. A diversion.

Sure, he was secretly using the weekend to hustle up some information on Hiram Lodge, but Betty did have a point: after everything they’d gone through in a short space of time, they both deserved a break.

He sighed and leaned back on the pillows. Between half-heartedly thumbing through the pages of his book, he fidgeted at the lapels of his robe, conscious of Betty as she moved about. The scent of her lavender soap and the residual warmth of the steamy shower wafted throughout the room. He watched her as she applied moisturiser onto her face, taking pleasure in the simple, domestic routine of observing her as she got ready for bed.

The assumption between them, of course, was that they were having sex tonight, and Jughead couldn’t help but be smug. It had been weeks since they’d first slept together, and every single time brought about a new revelation. They’d started out as most couples did - with more passion than skill, more fumbling than finesse - but they slowly found their rhythm. She would always discover another way to tease him and push his buttons, while he would always find a corner of her body that he hadn’t yet kissed.

“You know what I just realised?” Betty said suddenly as she crossed over to the bathroom. His pulse jumped as she walked past him, the promise of her bare body already putting him on edge. “Out of the four of us, only you and Archie haven’t kissed.”

_Jesus. Are we really talking about this right now?_ “Fascinating,” Jughead drawled sarcastically. The criss-cross of kissing entanglements between the four of them was ridiculous. Betty and Archie. Him and Betty. That sterile, retaliatory kiss between him and Veronica. _Which left..._

“Wait, what?” he asked as he arrived at the natural conclusion of that thought. “You and _Veronica?_ ”

Betty didn’t reply - only smiled at him enigmatically before sliding the door shut.

_Well, shit._

The notion in itself wasn’t... displeasing. But it sure as hell was surprising.

In the short time that they’d been sleeping together, Jughead was slowly but surely learning Betty in a way that was only possible through the love they were making - the words she wanted whispered in her ear, the pictures she wanted in her head, the parts of her body she wanted touched. He was a quick pupil, and she always appreciated the effort he put into _educating_ himself.

But it was revelations like this that threw him. Perhaps he didn’t know her quite as well as he thought he did. And, in all honesty, he should have really seen that coming. Because already, he was perceiving that there were secrets in her that remained unspoken, needs that maybe she could not even verbalise herself. Even as they lay tangled in bed after sex, positively spent, he always felt as though he needed to press into her further, to untangle a knot in her that he sensed was only half-loosened.

Blood rushed into his groin at the thought of the night ahead, and he felt himself quavering at the building anticipation. Nothing but a door separated them, and he had half a mind to march over into the bathroom, pin her against the shower door and take her then and there.

But the night was young. They had hours ahead of them, enough time to maybe coax her into playing.

What he didn’t realise was that on the other side of the door, _she_ was already gearing up for the game.

And that tonight, she was making the rules.

...

“Did it make you feel better? Kissing Veronica?” Betty’s voice drifted from the bathroom, slightly muffled.

What was the point in sugarcoating it? He thought he might as well be honest about what the best part of that whole mess was. “It felt good watching Archie’s face,” he replied, sardonic as always.

“Okaaay,” she drew out playfully, “but did you _enjoy_ kissing her?”

He scoffed. “I know entrapment when I hear it, Betty.”

The door slid open suddenly, making a sound like a sword being drawn from its sheath.

“Because if you did,” she purred, “I might have to punish you.”

His mouth fell open. There she stood, framed by the doorway - a vision in black lace, ready for the taking. Ready to come out and play.

He sat up quickly, feeling himself stiffen at the mere sight of her. The shock of seeing his girlfriend in racy lingerie mingled with pure urge and appetite. He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, the game already taking over him. “How?”

“I packed this. In case you needed a distraction.” Her voice dropped down to a low, husky tone. “From _sleuthing_.”

Jughead studied her closely as his hands wandered to her bare skin, his fingers skimming the waistband of her skirt. He could barely tear his eyes from her body, but he forced himself to look up at her in that moment. He wanted to let her know that whatever _this_ was, he was fully in on it.

_Consider me gone. Consider me entangled in this._

Jughead smirked up at her.“Consider me… distracted.”

Betty smiled and pushed him down onto the bed, and into oblivion.

…

The night was not going as Jughead had planned.

_And thank fuck for that,_ he thought, as Betty tugged harshly at his lower lip with her teeth. Which hurt a little. But just enough.

It was clear that she was taking charge tonight, more so than she’d ever done in their past encounters. The lingerie indicated as much. The fact that she was straddling him, her heat pressing down deliciously onto his hardened bulge, her hands pinning his arms down to his side as she ravished his mouth, told him that tonight was going to be - to put it lightly - _different._

The wig, however…

He wasn’t sure what the wig was about. He admitted that the effect of the whole get-up was arresting - the immediate connection in his mind was to Mia from _Pulp Fiction._ Who was a badass.

But he didn’t want to have sex with Mia tonight.

He wanted to make love to his girlfriend.

“Betty, wait… hold up,” he managed to breathe out between her ministrations on his body.

“What?” Her eyes filled momentarily with concern. “You don’t like it?”

“God, no. I mean, _yes_ \- I do like it. All of it. Well, most of it.” He was a little flustered, his lip still stinging exquisitely from her bite. “I just… um…”

“What is it?” she asked, more insistent this time.

He took a deep breath. “Is it okay if you take off the wig?”

Betty looked surprised at that.

He cleared his throat, slowly thumbing the lacy material over her nipple. “Look, Betty, I like... _this_ . What you’re wearing. I really, _really_ like it. But if we’re gonna do this stuff tonight…” And he really had no idea exactly what that ‘stuff’ would involve, except that it would obliterate him in the best way possible. “I want to do it with you. Just _you_. Okay?”

Betty nodded slowly. She sat up, still straddling him, and reached up to pull the black wig off her head. Her blonde hair spilled out from underneath it, loose and wavy. For a moment, she looked a little vulnerable, almost as if she missed the edge it gave her, and Jughead worried that he’d done the wrong thing.

“So… you want me this way?” she asked, her voice low and measured.

“Yeah, babe,” Jughead replied sincerely. “I do.”

She seemed to mull that over for a while before straightening up, a small smile playing on her lips, confidence suddenly evident. As though it had just occurred to her that she could be daring and seductive and experimental without the wig, or a stripper pole behind her. That she was sexy to him simply because she was Betty Cooper.

“You like that I look like this?” she asked, seeking reassurance.

“I like that you like _you._ ”

“Okay. Good.” She traced slow circles on his neck with her finger. “And what about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Are you gonna be... _good_ for me tonight?”

_Oh, so we’re back at this now, are we? Alright, Cooper. Let’s play your game._ He shifted in his seat. “Well, it depends,” he replied. “Are you gonna show me how?”

Betty toyed with the edge of his robe. “Let’s just say I’ve got plans.”

Jughead could’ve taken her right then and there. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, for starters, you need to get up.”

He laughed. “In case you couldn’t feel it, I _am_ up, Betty.”

“You know what I mean.” She rocked back on her heels and stood up, and as he got up off the bed, she pulled at the front of his robe. “Kiss me, Jug. Hard.”

He took a step towards her. “Is that a challenge?” he countered.

“It’s a demand.”

He smiled before picking her up and shoving her roughly against the wall opposite to the bed. Her feet were nearly off the floor, his body pressing up against hers. The kiss wasn’t languorous or sublime. It was teeth clashing and sweet brutality.

Jughead’s mouth was just starting to move down to her neck, his fingers skimming her crotch, when she pushed off the wall, landing back on her feet and thrusting him off her.

“Not yet,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Slow down.”

He could have shouted. He tried to keep his tone even. “God, Betty, we’ve been talking for ages. How much slower can we get?”

“Oh, Jug.” Her voice was quiet but provocative. She took his chin and gently tilted it up with her finger, her thumb reaching up to press down on his lips. A power move. He _loved_ that. “You don’t get to ask questions tonight. So you might as well enjoy the ride.”

Jughead felt something rumble in his chest as he pulled her in by the waist before crushing their mouths back together, the upturn of her lips telling him that she was enjoying this - the teasing, the slow torture. Moments later, his lips bruised and her fingers tangled and pulling at his hair, he realised that they were both still clothed. He tugged desperately at her skirt.

“Betty.” He looked at her pleadingly, wordlessly asking for permission to strip her naked.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He knelt before her, his hand splaying itself against the back of her leg as it rose up until it cupped her firm ass underneath her skirt. It felt… different. Barer. Finally, his fingers felt flimsy material. His fingers flicked up and he began to tug down, but Betty’s hand reached down to stop him.

“No,” she said, tauntingly playful and assertive. “Over here.” She guided his hand around to the side of her hip, and raised her leg on the bed behind him, hitching her skirt up so that his face was right between her legs. Jughead bit his lip in appreciation as he finally saw what she wanted him to see.

She was wearing panties, alright, but not just any kind - these were something else, a concoction of transparent black material that barely covered her, held together not by an elastic waistband but by long strips of black satin, tied into ribbons around her hips.

“Betty, I— _holy shit._ Where did you—?”

“What’d I say?” she said firmly. “No questions.”

He kept his eyes locked on her as he tugged the satin strips loose, before pulling the material away from her body, then stood up to his full height, one hand around the back of her neck, the other flinging those lacy panties away. She pulled away.

“Those were expensive,” she said, indignant.

“Really,” he replied, the sentence less of a question and more of a dare. He wanted to see how far he could push this. “You’re going to punish me for that, too, huh?”

Betty tugged roughly at the sash holding his bathrobe shut. “Again with the questions. You never learn, do you, Juggie?”

With one swift motion, she stripped him free of the robe and pushed him down onto the bed - the second time this night, although he never got sick of it. She brought her knee up to rest between his legs and leaned over him. “Underwear,” she said simply. It was a command. He smirked up at her as he pulled his boxer briefs off, now fully naked, his hard length springing forth.

She climbed up onto the bed, and leaned down to whisper into his ear. “Stay still. Don’t touch. Don’t even _move_.”

Betty lowered her bare pussy onto his cock, all slick warmth and velvet wetness. Jughead shook from the sheer effort of holding himself back from taking her. It was all he could do not to thrust up into her.

“You feel how wet I am?” Her voice was husky with desire. Jughead threw his head back onto the bed and groaned as she slowly dragged her warm folds over him, his fingers clenching at the quilt beneath him. “That’s all you. That’s all your doing.”

“Betty, for the love of god,” he whispered hoarsely. She was speeding up now, her damp sex on his stiffened member, practically humping him, and he was trying desperately to hold onto his sanity.

“I could come like this,” she said, her voice becoming a quivering, throaty whisper, her slick core still grazing him. “Just feeling you there, so hard for me… I could tip right over the edge. And I could probably take you down with me.”

Jughead nodded in assent. _She probably could._ His eyes were closed, and he was relishing the unique mixture of pleasure and agony that her body was giving to him when he felt nothing but empty air. He opened his eyes to see that she had drawn back and was now kneeling over him.

“But I’m not going to,” she said. “You’re going to do something for me.”

“What?” he asked, slightly dazed. “Anything.”

She lowered herself over his body, and held his gaze steadily. “You are going to make me come tonight, Jughead,” she said firmly. “You’re going to put that mouth to good use. On me. And I’m not talking about kissing.”

Jughead’s eyes widened. They’d spoken about it before - him going down on her - but had never actually done it. Betty had always been a little shy about it, while he had been the one to press the subject. While she was all too happy to give him what he wanted, she was always less forward with what _she_ desired.

But, apparently, not tonight.

“Is that going to be a problem?” She stroked his cheek lightly.

“God, Betty, no.” His tone softened. “You know how much I’ve wanted to do that to you. And honestly -- wait, whoa, _fuck…”_

Betty had lifted his hand to her mouth and taken his index finger into her pretty mouth, sucking it clean, mimicking the ministrations she made on his dick whenever she went down on him. Slowly, she drew it out, and Jughead moaned at the sight of it. “I’m sorry, have we had enough talking?”

He chuckled. She was trying to shut him up. “Point taken, Miss Cooper.”

“‘Miss Cooper’.” She smirked at that. “File that away for future use. I like it.”

“Noted.” His eyes skimmed over her body, taking in her alluring form. “Can I make one request, though? Please, baby.” He was literally begging, playing into the game willingly, loving the dark urgency of the energy between them.

“You may.”

“Take this off,” he said, lifting one of her bra straps and letting it drop down against her arm. “You can keep the skirt on, but I... I want to see your tits bared for me, Betts.”

He was a little nervous about the lewdness of that last line, but they were both so unashamed in verbalising their desires now, laying their fantasies bare, that he thought he may as well let her know how much he wanted her - how much he wanted to lap his tongue at her breasts, have his hands squeezing and tweaking the rosy flesh.

Thankfully, she reached around to undo the clasp. Her bra fell away from her shoulders, exposing her chest to his greedy stare.

“I’m definitely keeping the skirt on, though,” she said.

“Even during sex?”

“Even during sex.”

He groaned at that. There was something about the urgency of making love with clothes on that he didn’t realise he was going to like. Sitting up, he sucked on her nipples, claimed with his mouth the strip of flesh between her breasts that he had obsessed over in the weeks since they had first made love.

“Yeah, like that,” she murmured. “I like that, Jug.” Her hands cradled his face, pulling him in, asking for more. _Deeper. Harder._

He responded by nipping on her, lightly at first. Her back arched slightly, but she made no sound. She was holding fast to her composure.

_So we’re playing it like this tonight? You’re going to pretend you don’t like this?_

He bit down harder, and a sound somewhere in the vicinity of a hiss and a moan escaped her lips.

_That’s better._

He kept at it. He was pretty sure he was leaving marks all over her now, but she kept arching up into his mouth, feeding him.

“Now,” she breathed out. “Your mouth on my core. I want it now, Jug.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He got up to crouch over her body, but she pushed him back gently against the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What? You’re staying right where you are.”

“But... I thought…”

His brow was furrowed, echoing his confusion. She was biting at her nail, a sly question on her face. Slowly, it began to dawn on him what she wanted.

Him. On his back. Her pussy riding his mouth.

His grin threatened to split his face in half.

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

“Did I stutter? Just lie back and shut up, Jug.”

Her utter control of the situation, the shape of her body as it crawled towards the top of the bed - Jughead wanted these things imprinted in his memory. Because as she grabbed a hold of the black rails of the bedframe and spread her legs over his face, he knew that his mind would soon be blissfully blank.

The scent of her sex intoxicated him. Her sweet cunt, pink and open and glistening wet, hovered above him just out of reach, still tented by the black skirt she had insisted on keeping on her. He gently kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, a little tentative at first, then more firm and assured. Soon enough, he brought up his hands to her ass, bearing her down over him until finally, he was able to reach up and taste her.

Betty moaned at that initial contact, her breaths becoming sharp and quick. She gripped at the rails behind his head, her knuckles turning white. “God… oh my go-- _Jug.”_

Jughead explored her walls with his tongue, getting used to the taste. He breached her soft folds, cautious at first until she canted her hips forward, giving him permission to probe more aggressively. She rocked back and forth onto his mouth, the bed banging against the wall as it rocked with her, and already he could feel her muscles tensing, clamping down in anticipation of her orgasm.

Her moans were getting louder now, and he probably should have worried about Archie and Veronica next door, but frankly, he couldn’t give a shit. Not when he had this goddess riding his mouth, bringing herself to the edge.

“A little more… up… higher…” she panted. As he adjusted, sucking hard on her clit, she whined. “Oh my god. Yes, there. That’s it, Jughead, _fuck, yes…”_

He could feel his own insides bursting at the seams, and he thought that if she was too spent to have sex afterwards, he was going to have one long, torturous night ahead of him. The feel of her on his lips, the taste of her in his mouth, the feeling of her legs clenching his face… it was all too much.

Betty started thrusting harder and faster. Her muscles were starting to tense, wound up tight, ready to erupt. He dug his nails into her back, forcing his tongue deeper into her, wanting to hear her explode.

_Come on, Betty,_ he thought. _Unravel for me._

“Jug, I… I’m…”

One hard, final flicker of his tongue, and for a split second, it seemed like the world stood still. Betty’s body was taut and motionless - a knot of rigid tension as her mouth formed silent syllables. Jughead gripped her hips, lapping swiftly at the sweet flood that pre-empted her oblivion.

Then, without warning, she came apart.

Deep, throaty moans gave way to a salacious, fever-pitch scream as her body shook around him with an intensity he had never seen or felt before. She came, seemingly, over and over, tremor after tremor taking hold of her and pushing her further into a powerful, drawn-out orgasm.

Finally, she collapsed, her hands still gripping the bed frame, her legs languid and sliding off Jughead. He was hard as a rock now, and he looked desperately at her, willing her, wanting her on him.

“Jug, that… that was… oh my god, I feel like I’m still coming…”

_Please._

“I need to ride this one out -- ah, _fuck._ ” Her body clenched, as though in the throes of an invisible pleasure. “Juggy, I need you in me. _NOW._ ”

He wasn’t wasting any more time. “Get on top, Betts,” he growled out.

With an almighty effort, Betty got herself up and impaled herself on him, and the sight of his cock disappearing underneath her black skirt was almost enough to send him lurching prematurely into his own orgasm. As he entered her, she immediately clenched her walls around him, and he jerked up, making her squeal.

“Fuck, Betts, don’t do that,” he panted. “At least not yet. Let me enjoy this for a little while.”

She laughed breathlessly as he kept thrusting. “Sorry. You’re going at my pace, babe.”

Jughead didn’t stand a chance. She was going hard in pursuit of her second wave, and he was only here for the ride. All too quickly, he felt his body surging, just as she intensified her movements on his cock.

“Betts --”

“Wait for me,” she commanded him. “I’m close.”

He was close to yelling now. It was taking every part of him not to tumble into the satisfying darkness. And she wasn’t making it easier. He felt a familiar rush, and he was nearly wild with the white, pure heat that was churning inside of him.

“BETTY.”

“I’m nearly --”

“Betty, I can’t--”

“Hold it--”

“Please--”

“JUG.”

“ _FUCK.”_

“ _OH MY GOD, YES!”_

They rocked and thrashed through their crescendo together, limbs tangled, skin flush, sweat and cum rendering them slick against each other. Betty slumped down onto Jughead as he shuddered and emptied himself into her. As she lay on top of him, he could feel a muscle in her arm twitching - a sign of total exhaustion.

Soon, Betty rolled onto her back, her chest still heaving. They both lay there for a while, stunned, staring at the ceiling, trying to recover.

“Was that…” he paused to catch his breath. A laugh spilled out of him involuntarily. “Was _that_ what you wanted?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning as she turned to snuggle up to him, slinging her arm over his stomach. “That’s what I wanted.”

…

The door to the bathroom slid open. While the thought of Betty standing there in black lacy lingerie would stay with him for a long, long time, _this_ was his favourite sight - his clean, freshly scrubbed, ready-for-bed girlfriend.

“You all done?” he asked.

“Yeah. All done.” She smiled at him before bending down to give him a minty, post-toothbrush kiss.

He got up and looked around for his towel and pajamas. The bathrobes were comfortable, but he felt weird going to sleep in something that was monogrammed with the Lodge family initials. He may have been living it up in their lake chateau, but he was still Southside fury through and through. He wasn’t keeping anything of Hiram’s on his skin.

Betty turned to him suddenly, just before he stepped into the bathroom. “Hey. Before you go in, can I ask you a question?”

He placed his things down. “Shoot.”

She seemed to hesitate, searching for words. “Was that… weird for you?”

“What was?”

“Sex. Earlier.” She cleared her throat. “The lingerie. The whole get-up. Me bossing you around.”

“What? Seriously?” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re really asking that?”

She shrugged and looked away, a little embarrassed, and he laughed.

“Betty, were you not there? Didn’t you see how I reacted to that? To _you?_ ”

“Yeah, but… ah. I don’t know.” She looked down at her hands. “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but… you know that I’ve never been that upfront before. About asking for what I wanted. Sexually.”

“I know, babe."

“And going into tonight, I knew that I wanted to. These past few weeks, since our first time at your place - they’ve been amazing, Jug.”

“They have been.”

“And I’m really starting to know and feel and understand what my body wants, you know? And I wanted to show you, too.”

“Good. And I _want_ you to show me.”

“Okay, good. I just… I don’t want to ruin any of that. And with the wig thing…” She shook her head. “I just don’t want you thinking I’m some deviant.”

“Betty, who says I don’t like a bit of deviance?” She rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly. “And, come on. Asking for what you want, vocalising it, being explicit about it - that’s not being deviant. That’s just being--”

“Dominant? Controlling?”

“ _Assertive._ It’s standing up for your needs, your desires. Babe, you stand up for everything and everyone else. Shouldn’t you be able to do that for yourself?”

She sighed, seeming to mull this over. He took her hands, clasping them in his before bringing them to his lips.

“Listen to me. I _loved_ every second of what happened here earlier. Every single part of it. Did I think the wig was a little too much at the beginning? Okay, yes.” She cringed visibly. “But you took it off after I asked you to, right? After I clearly stated my preference for actually seeing you and not Uma Thurman from _Pulp Fiction._

“ _You_ did the same," he continued. "You asked me to do things. Well, you demanded it, actually. Which was fucking hot.” She chuckled at that, before leaning her head on his chest. “You asked for things, I asked for things - we were honest with each other. That’s normal. That’s healthy.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I guess.”

“Betty, look.” He cupped her face, looked her straight in the eye so she knew that what he was saying was important. “We’ve kept enough secrets from each other. We’ve hidden things, trying to protect the other person and hurting each other in the process. Do we really need to start all that again?”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “No.”

“I don’t want that for us anymore. Especially not here, not with this.” He nodded vaguely towards the bed. “That nakedness that we have goes beyond the physical. When I’m with you, when I’m making love to you, I’m exposed and vulnerable. Sometimes it scares me.”

“It’s like that for me, too, Jug.”

“Yeah. I know. I saw that tonight.” Jughead sighed. “And I want more of that. I want to see you, raw and exposed and honest. You told me once that you wanted all of me - well, I want the same from you. Even the parts of yourself that you think are too dark to see the light. I can handle darkness too, you know.”

“Yeah,” Betty said. “I know. I know you can.” He smiled at that, the way she echoed his words from the trailer.

_Shit._ _Are we turning into each other?_

“So... you sure that’s okay?” she asked. “You’re okay with me saying those things out loud, being direct and honest with you like that?”

“Yes. Please. Absolutely.”

“Even if it involves something… a little different?”

“ _Especially_ if it involves something different.”

She laughed, then heaved a sigh of relief. “Alright. Okay.”

“C’mere.” Jughead pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do. And I love you, too.”

He stepped back and cocked an eyebrow at her. “So, you know. Feel free to boss me around in bed anytime you like...” She giggled. “Miss Cooper.”

A dark glint sparkled in her eye. “I will... Mr. Jones.”

“Hey, none of that,” he said. “I’m about to shower and I’m pretty sure my refractory period isn’t over yet.”

“One hour, Jug. That’s the estimated recovery time for guys your age.”

“Oh my god. I was joking, Betty. You seriously researched that? I am _wiped_ from earlier.”

She grinned. “Fine, fine. I tried.” She stepped up on her toes to kiss him before he grabbed his things and headed for the shower.

He turned around, remembering something. “By the way,” he said. “This kiss you spoke of… between you and Veronica…?”

“Come out in ten minutes and I’ll tell you,” she said, laughing. “In _minute_ and _precise_ detail."

“Excellent. Because, you know. It’s for research. For my novel.”

She snorted. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jug.”

He slid the door closed, smiling. As he showered, he thought of the girl on the other side of the door - her desires, her needs, her wants, all exposed so tangibly that night. He wanted more of it. He wanted more of her.

He’d told her that he loved her many times in the past few weeks since they reunited. But he knew that showing her was just as important - whether that meant holding her hand as they walked together through the halls of Riverdale High, or letting her take whatever it was that she needed from him whenever they made love.

He suddenly remembered the book that he’d left on the bed. _What We Talk About When We Talk About Love._

What _did_ love mean?

_Surrender,_ he thought, imagining Betty lying in his arms earlier afterwards, soft and pliant and beautiful. _Vulnerability._

_But also power._ He pictured her face - the steeliness in her green eyes as she had him literally on his knees, as she rode him with abandon. _Assertiveness. Freedom._ _Honesty._

Jughead smiled.

Maybe he could teach Raymond Carver a thing or two.

**Author's Note:**

> There are many ways to extend and expand upon the amazing scene we got of Betty and Jughead in 2.14. This, I would imagine, is probably one of the less kinkier ones.
> 
> What does Betty want? That's the question I asked myself when starting to write this fic. Given what we know from the episodes prior to that, my own humble take on her character is that she wants to explore her budding sexuality, which was awakened in 1.13 but abruptly interrupted by Riverdale's craziness. She wants that for herself, but she hasn't been shown the safest or most appropriate spaces to do that.
> 
> Her reunion with Jughead in 2.12 sets us up to see how that could play out in the context of a healthy, loving relationship, which is what I wanted to explore in this fic. What would it look like to see her owning her desires and exploring them with an all-too-willing Jughead? What would it look like if we saw Betty clearly articulating what she wanted sexually, saying that out loud, and acting them out with her boyfriend, rather than exploring them through a misinformed understanding of BDSM, or from a webcam, or with a stripper pole? 
> 
> This is my humble attempt to tackle all that, as well as Jughead's loving response to it. It's not perfect (I am still very much new to writing smut), but I hope you enjoyed reading it.


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